Royal Distraction by Lucy McConnell (read aloud books txt) 📕

in that it made her heart pound like ceremonial drums: loud, deep, and with a hint of anticipation. But it was also intoxicating—like the heady scent of a valley of flowers in full bloom.

She lifted her chin. “I, too, have wrestled a pig—though I did not enjoy the activity.”

He turned so he was walking backwards in front of her. His smile reached up and turned on the light in his eyes. “Then you weren’t doin’ it right.” His gaze didn’t linger on her but went over her shoulder. She didn’t have to turn to know Kingston had arrived. She’d texted him before leaving the café, saying they were changing locations and she was riding with Tatum.

To her surprise, Kingston had promised to keep a discreet distance, and he was doing a decent job of it. However, he was hard to miss with his long black hair in a bun at the base of his neck and his thick build. He had lines in his face, carved there with determination. She wasn’t surprised Tatum stared, but she was surprised by the way he seemed to calculate the situation.

Nyssa trailed her fingers up Tatum’s arm as she brushed past him, tucking her borrowed shoes beneath a bench for the moment.

“Is there a trick to picking the right ball?” she asked in an effort to bring his attention away from her guard. Tatum had explained the basics of bowling on the ride over and she was anxious to give it a try.

“I’ll show you.” He took her hand as they made their way to a display case of head-sized balls in a rainbow of colors.

“The balls are pretty.” She touched one, finding it cool and smooth. “They almost make up for the shoes.”

Tatum stepped closer, his chest to her shoulder as he explained. “You want a ball that’s heavy enough to plow through the pine, but light enough to control.”

She hefted one with the number fourteen on it. “Oof!” The ball slipped right out of her hands and they both jumped away to avoid smashed toes.

“Maybe something lighter,” he said with a smirk. He handed her one with the number nine.

“Ooo, it’s pink. Bubble-gum pink. My favorite.”

“You are such a girl.” He hefted a number twelve black using only three fingers in the holes.

“Thank you.” She smiled over her shoulder as she made her way back to their lane. He’d meant to tease her, but having grown up with two smelly brothers, being called a girl was a compliment she’d take any day. She set her ball on the floor next to her chair and mustered up the courage to put on the new white socks and smelly shoes. The socks had come from a vending machine by the door.

Tatum put his ball on a low table thing with rubber guards. He then entered their names in the computer and they appeared on the television screens above.

With her shoes securely tied, a feat considering one lace was shorter than the other, she grabbed her ball and marched to the line. The building was empty except for the older man, who took Tatum’s money, and Kingston, who took a chair by the exit. The room smelled stale, and she wondered if it was the leftover smell from the snack counter behind them or the stench from the borrowed shoes. Light poured in around the glass doors, but the interior lights were yellowed with age.

The ball fit nicely on her shoulder and she put a palm underneath, ready to hurl it. The only way she was going to send it all the way down the lane was if she put some major muscle behind it. “So I throw this down there?” She nodded to where nine white pins stood at attention. Scooting one foot forward, she prepared to throw.

“No. No, no, no, no.” Tatum jumped to his feet, gently taking the ball off her shoulder. He worked to keep his smile under control and she enjoyed watching him squirm. Spinning the ball around in his hands, he found three holes. “Put your fingers in here, like this.”

She did as instructed. “That feels weird.”

“It does at first.” He put his left hand on her hip and moved behind her, his right hand supporting the ball.

She breathed in his soapy clean scent. His body came around hers so easily. She fit into him like a wave filling a sea cave. He hadn’t kissed her in the café, a fact she both admired and hated at the same time. Her father used to say that a man who could not control himself was not a man worth trusting. Tatum had wanted to kiss her—very much—but he’d checked himself. She wasn’t sure she could have done the same if he’d been the one asking the question.

“You want to start with the ball in front, then let it swing back, then forward, then release.” He went through the motion with her, his body brushing hers in so many places she couldn’t keep track. Nor did she want to. What she wanted was to get lost in that sensation—that bubbly seafoam-in-her-brain feeling that having him this close created.

Her eyes went to his lips, so very close. “What if I miss?”

“You can have another try.” His voice was soft and she found herself leaning closer.

“Good.”

Slowly, he pulled away, the distance between them cold and lonely.

Facing forward, Nyssa tried to remember what he’d told her. She swung back, swung forward, and released. The ball smacked the floor so loudly it sounded like she’d cracked it. The ball tottered forward a few rotations before it veered right and landed in the crevice. Ever so slowly, it made its way to the end of the lane, missing all the pin thingies. She scowled and stomped towards the ball rack.

“Where are you going?”

“I need another ball. You said I get two tries.”

He laughed easily. “Your ball will come back.” Sure enough, with a clang and a clatter the ball rolled right up onto that half-sized table.

She